


Be Real

by Naiesu



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Carnival, Day At The Beach, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Friendship, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Rejection, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-23 19:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21325372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naiesu/pseuds/Naiesu
Summary: Richie can feel his heart thumping in his chest, and he's thankful it's dark enough to hide his blush. "What's my condition, Doc?"Eddie pulls his hands back, setting them in his lap. He looks like he's trying very, very hard not to laugh. "Heartbreak, Mr. Tozier." He pretends to start writing. "I'm prescribing a bit of love for you to take in your everyday life."Richie feels himself smiling, just a little, and raises his eyebrows. "And where can I pick that up?" he says, a bit quieter than he means to.Eddie fights with his smile. "For the best results? I'd say the person that hurt you."~~~The Losers are seniors in high school, and although no one says a word, everyone is squeezing the year for everything it can give them of each other. There's just one thing standing in Richie's way.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	1. Pink Camellia

Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.

-D. H. Lawrence

# 1

In the fall of 2016 the Losers start their senior year. It’s exciting, it’s new--in a way. They’re the kings of the school. They’re still Losers, but they’re cool, as cool goes. They have attention.

It’s unwanted. They keep to themselves outside of school, but privately Richie tries to guess at what exactly is grabbing them attention. It’s not truly private at all. He shares his thoughts with the group, but they never have anything to put in, so he changes his theory every day.

Today it’s-- “--probably Eds!” Richie lurches forward, wrapping his arm around Eddie’s neck and reeling him in. Eddie struggles against him, but Richie's always had more than a few inches on him. “It’s because you’re so cute, my sweet Spaghetti Head,” he sighs, eyes on the ceiling. Eddie has his arm in a vice-like grip, and is jerking Richie back and forth, but Richie just smiles. He ignores the shouts of passersby getting caught in the fray. “People just can’t get their eyes off you!” He lets Eddie go. “I should know! I’m one of them!”

Eddie brushes his hands down his front, fixing his shirt. He fixes Richie with a look of resigned irritation. “Maybe I should break your glasses so you don’t have to worry about it.”

Richie bends his knees so they’re eye level, and bites his lip, tilting his head up. The rest of the Losers stop behind them, groaning. “Go on, Eds. Just a quick love tap, though, we’re in public.”

Eddie narrows his eyes, looking for all the world like he wants to, but his expression shifts quickly, attention grabbed. He turns, walking past Richie, and Richie stands up straight.

Eddie’s standing across from a brunette, black hair done up in a flip. It fits her well, Richie admires. They’re talking, normal, boring, small talk.

“Richie,  _ don’t,”  _ Stan says, eyeing him furiously.

Richie is already on his way over to the both of them, ignoring the hands pawing at his clothes, Bill’s hand, grabbing the strap of his book bag and almost,  _ almost _ yanking him back.

“Hey, Mark!” Richie says, overzealous. He slips a grin onto his face, but it keeps slipping and pulls up into something reminiscent of a threat. He throws his arm around Eddie again. “How are you on this fine morning?”

“Mary,” she corrects him. Richie can see behind her own polite smile that she knows it was on purpose. “I’m good. How are you, Richie?”

“Peachy keen!”  _ Peachy fucking keen.  _ “I mean,” he looks at Eddie, who is fuming, but refusing to meet his eye. Oh, Richie is in for it later, “who wouldn’t be with our Eds sharing his love with us?”

_ Richie,” _ Eddie hisses.

Mary’s smile becomes more natural, and she looks at Eddie, laughing when Richie pinches his cheek. “Fair point.”

Eddie flushes. The bell rings, and some distant part of Richie knows he should stop at his locker or he’s going to be stuck lugging around all of his books, but he doesn’t move until Eddie jerks out of his grip. He watches him exchange words with Mary, a quick hug, a peck on the lips.

Bill grabs his book bag strap again, and this time Richie goes willingly.

In the fall of 2016, Eddie gets a girlfriend.

# 2

Richie likes to think he deals with things well, but he knows it’s not the truth. It never has been. The Voices aren’t for fun, as much as he tries to make them. It’s another wall, something else he can hide behind, another way to funnel his thoughts in a way that someone, anyone, might enjoy. He has a lot of walls.

Eddie gives him a lot of rope. He probably thinks Richie just wants his attention, like always, but Richie can see his patience thinning. Richie is growing more and more annoying as time passes. He can feel it.

He has no idea what’s gotten into himself.  _ Is  _ he getting needy? Is he, God forbid,  _ jealous?  _ He never thought he’d be one of those people, dominating his friend’s time.

Richie sees Eddie and Mary sometimes, hears their plans for dates, watches them hold hands, and thinks maybe Eddie isn’t just his friend.

# 3

It grows. He’s normal around Eddie.  _ Almost.  _ Sometimes he can’t help but stare, a little too long, maybe, or make a quip that oversteps the boundaries of light flirting and launches itself right into a question, an offer. _ Bored, Eds? We could always make out. _

But around Mary? There’s nothing normal. He has every mask in place, every cruel word he can think to say tumbling over his lips. He’s trying to drive her away, he knows. He knows, and he tries, and he tries, and he tries anyway. It’s driving a wedge between him and Eddie, slowly but surely. The Losers can feel it, too, and they try to keep Richie away whenever she’s around. He’s almost thankful.

“Why did we have to come to the quarry?” Richie asks, tone plateauing back to a level of normalcy. Mary had insisted on leaving when the sun fell behind the tree line, and it’s left Richie feeling like he can breathe again.

“You can’t b-bring a girl to the Barrens, Richie,” Bill says. He’s comfortable, arms behind his head, eyes on the stars.

“Bev is always down at the Barrens,” Ben says, looking at Bill. He’s sitting up, hand in Beverly’s hair where her head lies in his lap.

“Bev is a Loser,” Richie says. He sighs, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the clifface.

“Wow,” Beverly says, and Richie can hear her smile. “I feel so special.”

“You should. This is a highbrow party. Invitation only.”

Mike hums. He looks like he’s half asleep, lying next to Bill. His eyes are closed. “What’s the invitation?”

“I don’t know,” Richie says. He kicks a rock loose with the heel of his shoe, and hears it splash a few seconds later, “Henry Bowers wouldn’t tell me.”

Laughter rings out around him, quiet and dampened by the long day, and Richie manages a smile. He relaxes. It’s just the seven of them, the water, and the stars. That’s enough to keep him quiet for a while.

People start leaving after another hour or so, and eventually it leaves just him and Eddie. Even better. Even worse. Eddie is quiet, lying some feet away from him, and Richie, for once, doesn’t feel the words coming.

Eddie breathes, but the way he’s got his shoulders set tips Richie off. They’re going to have a big, serious talk, and suddenly the words are flowing.

He rolls onto his side, staring at Eddie, and props his cheek up in his palm. “We’re all alone now, Eds,” he says, and Eddie frowns. “Is that what you wanted?”

Eddie stares at him. “Maybe it is, Richie.”

“I thought so.” Richie scoots closer, and closes his eyes, puckering his lips. “Don’t worry,” he says, when Eddie doesn’t move or speak. “I brushed my teeth.”

“I didn’t stay here to play this stupid game with you,” Eddie says, agitated. Richie opens his eyes, feeling a familiar twang in his chest.

“But Eddie,” he says, in the high pitched voice of a southern belle he’s been working on, “how else will I know you love me?”

“I don’t love you!” Eddie snaps. He looks frustrated, and it steals away Richie’s smile. “Why do you keep doing this? It’s not funny, Richie! I don’t like it when you tease me like that, and I  _ know  _ Mary is the reason you’re doing it! Just cut it out already!”

He stands up, dusting his pants off, and Richie watches him. His mind is blank, every thought and word deserting him.

Eddie grabs his keys, staring down at Richie. “I stayed to tell you to leave Mary  _ alone.” _

He storms off, feet working a steady tattoo on the dirt, and Richie stares at him until the quarry is empty. He rolls over onto his back again, feeling like a grade-A asshole.

_ Couldn’t stop while you were ahead,  _ he chides himself. He twirls his keyring around his finger. It was a joke, all of it was a joke, or at least that’s what Eddie would have heard it as. It’s what it was meant to sound like. But the feelings fueling the words were true. Richie sighs, tossing his keys up in the air and catching them.

The Man of a Thousand Voices, all of them lies.

# 4

Heartache. It’s a word he knows, not one he’s comfortable with. He can’t explain it inside and out, doesn’t understand what the fuss is about, but he thinks he’s beginning to. A want, a pull, an ache, truly, in every sense of the word. An insatiable longing for something he can’t have.

Eddie doesn’t apologize for the way he spoke the night before, and it’s not the first time he’s had a sudden outburst of frustration directed at Richie, but for once Richie feels like he’s owed. He wants Eddie to soften the blow of his words, and he knows it’s only because he wants the pain to go away.

But, as with every argument, things settle, and they seat themselves back in their everyday antics. Richie teases everybody, flirts with Eddie, and finds out it’s easiest to be nice to Mary when he’s not around at all.

# 5

“We can’t stay down in the Barrens forever,” Beverly says, kicking at the muddy bank. She’s sitting on a fallen log nestled in the grass, safe away from the creekbed.

“The quarry is just as shitty,” Richie says, smiling at his own whit. He’s standing in front of Mike, trying to show him that he can hacky sack, he  _ can, he swears, he just left his hacky sack at home.  _ Trying to hacky with a rock is probably the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life.

“One day,” Beverly says, “I wanna  _ not  _ swim in piss and shit.”

“No one told you to swim in it, you did that all by yourself.”

She kicks Richie in the side, and he stumbles, rock falling on his foot. He looks down at his dirty chinos, and then at his loafers. “Mrs. Marsh!” he chides. She scoffs, but doesn’t react otherwise. Richie picks up the rock and tosses it back into the underbrush. “You guys are gonna give me bruised knees.”

“Bet you’d know all about those, wouldn’t you,” Stan mutters, scribbling at his homework.

Richie fixes his glasses and folds his arms. “Think you’re funny, Stan?”

“Think I’m honest,” he says, not looking up.

Mike snorts, and Richie slaps his arm, walking around him. He starts shuffling through the dirt with his shoe for lack of anything better to do. “Let’s go to the ocean then,” he says. It’s just a suggestion, something quick and offhand, but when he turns around Beverly is staring at him.

“Really?” she asks. “When?”

“I mean, we could go tomorrow.” He shrugs. “It’s not like we’re far away.”

Beverly vaults off the ground, hugging Richie. “Oh thank God!”

It knocks the breath out of him, but he recovers quickly, twirling her around. “You really hate it here, don’t you?” Richie sits her back down on the ground again, feeling his arms ache. He’s not nearly as strong as Mike.

Beverly fixes her clothes. “I can’t wait to leave this shithole.”

“Wow,” Bill says. He’s laying next to Eddie and Ben in the grass, hands behind his head. “Use y-your words, B-bev.”

“Fuck off.”

“Is that what you wanted?” Ben asks.

Eddie and Bill laugh, and Richie’s attention centers in on them. He stares at Eddie, feeling his stomach churn. He shouldn’t say anything, but he wants to,  _ God,  _ does he want to.

He doesn't. His flirting is getting him in trouble, is agitating Eddie more and more every time he does it. Richie thinks it may be because every time is a little worse than the last. He's edging a line to see how far he can push.

It's going to get him in trouble, and he knows that, he  _ does,  _ but then he sees Eddie's smile and every thought abandons him.

Eddie glances at him, and Richie looks away.

# 6

They camp out at Mike's once the weekend hits. They all know they're running out of time together, and it's pushing them to take advantage of every minute of freedom they're offered.

It's warm out, but the chill of fall is starting to blow in, and it's comfortable enough to have a bonfire going. They're all sitting around in lawn chairs, chatting and roasting marshmallows.

Richie is sitting in his chair sideways, skewer held out over the open fire. "Bev, when do you wanna go to the ocean?"

She cuts off whatever she's saying to Ben. "You're serious?"

"You brought it up." He leans back in his chair to look at her upside down. The plastic protests, and he tries to ease up before he ends up lying in the dirt. "Do you still want to go?"

She shifts closer to him. "Are you kidding? Of course I do."

"Alright." He spins his marshmallow. "Do you want to go sometime soon before winter hits, or in the spring?"

"Why not both?" Mike asks.

"I'm not made of money," Richie says, sitting up a little to look at him.

"We'll pay you for gas."

"Now we're talking."

"We're going both times?" Stan asks.

"Looks like it," Richie says, leaning back again.

Beverly leans onto his chair, and he curses when it tips back, upturning him into the grass. The chair gives way beneath him, bouncing away. His marshmallow falls into the fire. She laughs. "Sorry."

He stares up at her. "Were you planning on doing something, or did you just want to knock me out of my chair."

"I was just gonna say thank you," she says, leaning over him.

"I think I deserve an apology," he says. He makes a kissy face.

She leans closer. "Do you have a boo boo?"

He nods. "In my heart."

"I'm not a surgeon."

"Eddie," Mike laughs. "You're going into medicine, right?"

Eddie laughs, boisterous, and stands up. He walks around the fire pit. "What did he do?"

Beverly sits back on her haunches. "It's heart related, doctor."

Richie slips his hand under his shirt, bouncing it against his chest in a dramatic heartbeat. Eddie squats next to him. "What seems to be the problem, Mr. Tozier?"

"I'm sad, sir," he says. He frowns, feeling his heartbeat stutter. "I'm afraid I may have a stroke."

Eddie nods, face serious. "A stroke is in the brain, Mr. Tozier." He purses his lips, sighing. "Have you always acted like this? I fear you may have had one as well."

"My mother dropped me on my head a few times as a child."

Eddie nods, pretending to write it down. Scattered laughter fills the air. "Only a few?"

"As far as I know."

He nods again, laying his first two fingers over Richie's hand. He puts his other hand up to his ear as a mock stethoscope and makes a noise of understanding.

Richie can feel his heart thumping in his chest, and he's thankful it's dark enough to hide his blush. "What's my condition, Doc?"

Eddie pulls his hands back, setting them in his lap. He looks like he's trying very, very hard not to laugh. "Heartbreak, Mr. Tozier." He pretends to start writing. "I'm prescribing a bit of love for you to take in your everyday life."

Richie feels himself smiling, just a little, and raises his eyebrows. "And where can I pick that up?" he says, a bit quieter than he means to.

Eddie fights with his smile. "For the best results? I'd say the person that hurt you."

Richie tilts his head back to look at Beverly. "Hear that, Ms. Marsh? I need a kiss."

"Who told you that?" she asks, but she leans over him anyway, pecking him on the forehead.

He pretends to swoon, tapping his hand against his chest in a quick tattoo. "I had the most wonderful doctor! Quite a looker, too."

Eddie sighs through his nose, but he's still smiling. He holds his hand out. "That'll be a thousand dollars."

Richie sits up so fast he almost knocks their noses together. Eddie snorts, leaning back a bit.  _ "What?" _

"One thousand dollars," Eddie says, shaking his hand while he waits.

_ "Wow.  _ Look, man, I have  _ maybe  _ nine dollars socked away."

Eddie's expression softens as they continue their game. He clicks his tongue. "You should've thought about that before you scheduled your appointment."

They're sitting close together next to the fire, faces close, bodies angled together. The group has mostly turned their attention away, bored. Eddie is lit in the soft glow of the fire, and it reflects in his grey eyes, warming his expression.

They look at each other a moment longer, and Richie swallows. He glances down at Eddie's lips, fanning his fingers out. Wanting to touch and not being allowed. "Is there another payment method you'll accept?" he asks, so quiet it's almost a whisper.

Eddie's lips part, hardly noticeable but for the sigh that escapes and tickles Richie's skin. They're breathing the same air. "I--"

"Eddie?" Mary calls.

It breaks the trance. Eddie glances across the fire at her, shifting and getting to his feet. He walks around the Losers to sit back in his seat.

Richie hears him talking quietly, and stares at the dirt, blinking quickly. He's still reeling, heart stuttering and mind blank. His face feels hot. His arms feel empty. He stares into the fire, rolling his lips against each other.

Richie looks over the top of the fire and sees Eddie and Mary leaning into each other, murmuring. Eddie chuckles, and Richie sighs, bitter.

"You like the dirt that much?" Mike asks. He snorts when Richie lays down again, shimmying.

"I just might," Richie says.

"Great, cuz I have a few jobs you could help out with."

"What's the pay?"

"Friendship."

Richie makes a face. He holds up one hand. "Being covered in shit," he holds up his other hand, "for a hug?" He shakes his head. "I think I can do better at the diner."

Mike shrugs, smiling down at him. "Have fun paying your hospital bills with nine dollars."

Laughter rings out around him, and Richie lets his arms drop into the dirt, snorting. He hears Eddie's laughter then, carried longer than the rest, and looks over at him again.

But Eddie isn't looking at him. He's still leaning close to Mary, head almost on her shoulder and smile shining in the low light.

Richie stars up at the stars and tries not to let the jealousy show on his face.

# 7

He drives to school on Monday and sits in his car for a long time, staring at the entrance. He's a bit early, and the people who have shown up before him are littered across the lawn. They're talking, laughing, eating.

Richie leans forward, hooking his chin over the top of the steering wheel. He's never been anxious going to class before. He supposes there's a first time for everything.

He knows why he feels that way, too. Mary hadn't meant much of anything to him when she first started dating Eddie, but now she's a source of anger, envy, sadness. It makes his chest hurt just thinking about it. He doesn't want to face it, but it's impossible to push it away when he sees her every day.

And seeing Eddie look at him the way he does. Like he's feeling things just as much as Richie.

Richie knows he shouldn't make assumptions, but it lessens the ache when he can pretend what he's feeling isn't unrequited.

_ How long have I felt like this,  _ he wonders, but after accepting it he knows. He knows it's been an  _ always  _ type of answer for a long time now.

There's a knock on his window, and he sits up. Stan is staring at him. "You'd better not be hot boxing yourself in there," he says, voice muffled by the glass.

Richie holds up his hands, smiling, and opens the door. Stan only stares at him. "You're never here this early," he says.

Richie can't think of anything to say. No, he isn't ever there that early. He hates school, would rather be anywhere else, so he always waits until the last second to leave the house.

Instead he shrugs. Stan stares at him. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for class to start." Richie turns in his seat and lets his legs dangle out the door. "I can't just walk in there."

"I wouldn't think that would stop you." He looks a second longer, and Richie has the sudden urge to purse his lips. He knows he's under intense scrutiny.

Stan's expression twists into something worried. "Did something happen?" he asks, gentle.

"No," Richie laughs, and it's not a lie. He rests his weight against the back of the seat.

The school door bangs when someone lets it slam closed, and Richie tenses. He tries not to let it show, and glances up, watching people shuffle into the building.  _ Guess it's time to go in. _

Stan glances at the door, then back at Richie. "Is it someone in there?"

Richie looks at him, trying to wipe his face clear when the nerves become too much. "We do have that geography test today."

"You've never worried about your grades before," Stan says. His eyebrows furrow.

"Can't disappoint my parents." Richie tilts his head, smiling, and leans closer. "It's sweet that you care."

Stan sighs through his nose, and it comes out sounding more like a huff. "Fine," he says. He backs away from the door. "Then let's go."

Richie blinks, but he has to move or Stan will argue with him. He grabs his book bag from the passenger seat and slides out of the car. He throws it on and gestures to the door. "Lead the way, Stanny."

They walk side by side into the school, and stop by their lockers. Stan is meticulous about storing his books and food, but Richie just upends his book bag inside, shuffling through loose papers.

He doesn't need any of it, so he pulls out the only books he needs for class. Richie slams the door when things start falling out, and Stan deadpans, staring at him when things bang against the metal.

"What?" Richie asks. He throws his weight against it when it bulges out, threatening to open. "I'll clean it."

"When school ends?"

_ Probably,  _ he thinks. He looks over when he sees Bill shoving his way through the throng of people. He pats Stan on the shoulder when he gets closer, and stops, staring when he catches Richie. "What are you doing here?"

Richie gestures to the hallway. "I go here. Small world, huh?"

Stan snorts an almost inaudible laugh, but Bill furrows his eyebrows. "You're never here this early."

"I already told him that," Stan says, glancing over at the two of them.

Bill looks at Richie. "And you said?"

A spark of irritation fueled by panic flares in his chest, and he purses his lips, trying not to frown. "It really doesn't matter, does it? I'm here now."

Except it does matter, but only to Richie. The bell rings, and the people milling about around him start off towards their classes. Richie shoulders his bag more fully, shifting backwards.

"S-shit," Bill grits out, walking away from the two of them. His locker is on the other side of the school, and he starts up a trot.

Stan stares at him, and Richie knows he's mulling over what he's heard. Richie sighs, quiet and barely there. "Ready?"

The two of them have social studies together first period, and he usually walks with Stan. If he's there on time. He runs late often.

"Hold on," Stan says, still pushing through his things.

Richie leans against his locker, watching him. He's in a rush, always has to be on time, if not early. Richie glances up at the clock on the wall, watching the seconds hand push its way around. They only have a minute left before class starts, and it's on the third floor.

He hears familiar voices and looks down the hallway. It's Beverly, unhurried as she steps between people, facing the side as she talks.

Richie pushes himself up straight, about to talk to her, but stops when he sees Eddie emerge from behind a group of people. His smile stutters, and he takes a deep breath.

"What?" Stan asks, looking at him.

"I'm gonna go ahead and go," Richie says. He steps in the direction of the stairs. "Don't be late!"

_ Richie!"  _ Stan snaps, half a curse.

Richie snorts and starts up a quick pace. If Stan catches up to him it's gonna hurt.

Someone bumps into him as he's turning. "Oh, so--hey, Richie!"

He looks down, and feels his smile disappear when he sees Mary walking by. She smiles at him, and he looks away. "Hey."

He doesn't need to look to know where she's headed.

# 8

There's not much to do after school every day, and the Losers spend most of their time at the quarry. They're trying to spend every warm day in the water before winter finally blows through and they're stuck inside.

But there's only so much they can do when they've been swimming there since childhood. They know every nook and cranny from the river to the cliffside. There's nothing left to explore.

Instead Bill and Mike bring tackle boxes, and whoever's not swimming has a chance to fish instead. Richie doesn't have the patience for it, and doesn't feel like doing his homework. He jumps off the cliffside and into the quarry, where he sits and sits and sits with his eyes closed.

Everyone floods the water once the sun gets to be too much to handle. It's mostly swimming and talking, but someone--it may have been Richie--splashes Stan, and a fight breaks out.

Bill splashes back at Richie, and Richie splutters, wiping his eyes. Bill laughs until Mike splashes him back.

They're a blur of colors, but Richie can make out most of it. Bill points. "This means war."

"I'm quaking," Mike says.

They split down the middle, and Mike ducks under the water. Richie climbs onto his shoulders, and they sway when he stands back up. Stan has Bill on his shoulders, and the two of them are laughing so much it looks like a struggle to stand.

There's a splash, and they look over when Ben wades over with Beverly on his shoulders.

"Eddie!" Bill calls. "Come on!"

Richie looks over towards the shore, but it's all the same color, and he can't make anything out. He can see the red of Eddie's trunks and nothing else. "I don't have a partner!"

"Yes you do!" Ben yells, spinning to face him. "There's eight of us!"

It's quiet for a few seconds. Eddie moves, and Richie only knows because he can hear his feet trudging through the water. "She doesn't want to!"

_ Of course she doesn't,  _ Richie thinks. He rolls his eyes, patting the top of Mike's head like a drum while they wait. Mike moves his head back and forth to the beat.

"Then be our ref!" Beverly calls.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Eddie laughs.

It takes him a second to swim out to them, and Richie starts up a game of concentration with Beverly while they wait. "The category is--" Beverly says.

"Birds," Richie says.

He smiles when Stan turns his attention to them. "Killdeer!"

"You cheater!" Beverly says. She pushes against Richie's hands when he tries to clap their palms together, and Mike and him both go down.

Richie stands up, shaking his hair out, and Mike shoves him. "You're the worst partner."

"She took advantage of me!"

Beverly looks down at him, crossing her arms. "We stand on opposite sides of this battle."

He gets up on Mike's shoulders again, and points at her. "It's on, Marsh."

She holds her arms out. "Come at me."

Eddie gets over to them, and Richie can't help but smile when he sees him barely staying above the water.  _ Cute. _

"All set?" Eddie asks, bouncing. One of his arms sticks up out of the water, and then drops back down. "Go!"

The six of them lean forward, and Richie doesn't hesitate to give Beverly a good shove. Her arms pinwheel, and she lurches forward, shoving back. They lock hands, and Richie curses when Bill pushes their arms.

He looks at Beverly, and she smiles at him. "Clothes line!" he calls.

Ben and Mike shift forward, and Stan tries to back up, but he's close to the shelf and the drop off will knock them both out of the game. He tries to walk sideways while Bill fights Richie and Beverly.

"Fuck, go, go, go!" Bill says, tone panicked. "Mike, huh-how could you do this!?"

Mike laughs, hurrying forward. Richie reaches out and shoves Bill. "It's nothing personal!"

They tussle for a moment, and then Beverly gets close enough to push Bill. They gang up on him, and Stan curses, voice high and panicked, as he slips over the shelf. Bill flails, but they both go under.

Richie laughs, but gasps immediately afterward when Beverly shoves him. He grabs her forearms, tensing his legs around Mike's arms, and the two of them push and pull against each other. Ben steps closer, and Beverly uses the momentum to knock Richie over.

He shakes his hair out when he comes back up. Beverly has her hands out like she's calming a crowd, and Richie throws water up at her. Ben splutters.

"This is not over!" he says, spinning to find Mike. He spots him swimming out to Bill and Stan. "Mike, come back, I need you!"

"I'm done!" Mike laughs.

"Accept your loss," Ben says.

"Never," Richie spits. He looks around again, but all he can see is the blur of the sun off the water. "Eddie!"

Eddie laughs, and Richie feels the water shift as he swims closer. "I'm here."

Richie reaches out to pat his shoulders, not trusting his own depth perception. Eddie lays his hands over top of Richie's, patting, and Richie feels his chest swell and warm. "Ready?"

He turns around, and Eddie jumps, putting all his weight into the hands he lays on Richie's shoulders. Richie goes under, and stands up when Eddie is seated on his shoulders. He holds onto Eddie's legs and tries not to focus on the feeling of skin against skin, of the way his fingers dig into the soft flesh of his thighs. His thumbs slip under the bunched up fabric of Eddie's swim trunks, but Eddie doesn't protest. Richie feels his face go hot.  _ Sunburn,  _ he thinks, trying not to focus on it.  _ They'll believe me if I say it's a sunburn. _

"The Losers' strongest!" Richie hoots.

"This should be good," Stan says somewhere at Richie's right. His smile is audible in his voice.

Richie makes up for what Eddie lacks in height, and they end up taller than Ben and Beverly.

"Hey! No!" Beverly says, pointing.

Richie wades through the water, and Eddie sets his hands on Richie's head, holding on while they find an equilibrium. Richie can't help but smile when he notes every place they're touching, the gentleness, the familiarity.

"Afraid you'll lose?" Richie asks.

Ben doesn't back up, but he doesn't walk forward either. Beverly holds her hands out when Eddie reaches forward. They lock hands, and Richie moves with Eddie, keeping him balanced.

"You guys always win!" Ben cries, but it's broken up by laughter.

"Dream team, baby!" Richie says, grinning. "Born to win!"

Eddie laughs, and they both lurch forward when he gives a particularly hard push. Ben barely keeps himself standing, and Richie sees them teeter totter for a moment before regaining their footing.

He throws himself forward, and Eddie shoves again, knocking Beverly in. Ben swims over to her, laughing. Eddie cheers, and Richie spins in a circle, showing them both off. He looks up at Eddie, and Eddie angles himself down to meet his eye.

He pushes the hair out of Richie's face. Richie tries not to smile, but fighting with it is impossible. "Born to win?" Eddie asks, scoffing.

"Am I wrong?" Richie asks.

Eddie laughs softly. "What are we winning? Just chicken fight?"

"Kiss already!" Beverly calls.

Richie snorts but closes his eyes obediently, puckering his lips. Eddie squeezes his cheeks between his palms, and Richie opens his eyes again. "I feel so loved," he says, slurring his words.

Eddie laughs. "I bet you do."

Richie leans back, and Eddie's hands jump from his face to his hands. He tries to hold on, but Richie lets them both crash back into the water, ignoring Eddie's choked protests. He stands up, and Eddie swims back to the surface, blowing the water away from his mouth.

"Asshole," Eddie says, splashing him.

Richie smiles at him, splashing back, and forgets about the wall between them.

# 9

As much as Mary irritates him, she really isn't around as much as Richie feels. She's busy most of the time the seven of them get together, and even when she's not she doesn't intrude on their time.

The Losers try to make her feel welcome and assure her that she isn't intruding on anything, but Richie doesn't join in.  _ She is intruding,  _ he thinks.  _ She has her own friends. _

And really, it isn't fair. Richie knows better, knows he should be accepting her like the rest of them, but the cordial words don't come. There are a thousand things he would rather be saying, but Eddie's words never leave him. 'Leave her alone', he said, and leave her alone Richie does.

He doesn't talk to her, and she doesn't try to talk to him.

# 10

The Losers have two things to look forward to as the fall rolls in: their trip to the beach and the carnival. The trip to the carnival is a spur of the moment decision, and they set the date to fall after the beach.

They continue to work out each other's schedules, and plan smaller activities when they know they can all make it. Otherwise it's random whoever-can-be-there plans.

Richie can't make it to most get togethers. His schedule at the diner doesn't allow time, and he picks up extra shifts where he can. He tells himself it's because he needs the extra money, but he knows in reality it's just in case someone wants something while they're out. Someone.

It leads to him missing a lot of fun, and he feels a pit forming in his chest. Until he finds out Mary ends up coming when he's gone. He's sure she senses the tension, and he doesn't blame her for going when he's not there, but it feels like she's filling a space he's opening up. Like he may be forgotten if he doesn't make it as much as she does.

So he makes time. They have a movie night at the end of the week, and Richie makes sure to complain until they schedule it for a night he can come.

He picks up Stan on the way there, and he hears everything that he's missed over the week. Not much, really, nothing spectacular happened, but it's always good to know. It's good to talk to Stan alone for a while.

They end up watching a movie Richie's never heard of. It takes at least half an hour for it to get anywhere, and he still isn't hooked on it. No one else seems to really be into it all that much, either. There's scattered whispering around him.

Eddie is sitting next to Richie, and halfway through the next movie they play he leans over. He presses his weigh up against Richie's side, and Richie stares at the screen, not hearing a word of it.

"Hey," Eddie whispers, inclining his head to whisper in Richie's ear.

Richie feels his face go hot, and tries to deepen his breathing.  _ Be normal.  _ He looks over at Eddie, at the tired lines under his eyes, the lazy smile on his face. And that makes it impossible to be normal. "What?" he asks, unable to keep himself from smiling.

"You know it's not real, right?" Eddie asks, and he's smiling too.

"Well, no shit, Eds. It's a movie."

Eddie laughs under his breath, knocking his fist against Richie's leg in a light punch. "Not that." He leans in a bit more when Bill looks over at them, irritated. Richie swallows when he feels their cheeks brush together, feels Eddie's breath wash over his ear. "The heart monitor. It's  _ so _ unrealistic."

Richie smiles, rolling his eyes. "Only you would know that."

"Nuh uh!" Eddie laughs. He ducks into Richie's shoulder when Bill shushes them. "You would know if you ever paid attention when I was talking."

_ As if I can pay attention to anything else.  _ He inclines his head further into Eddie's space, using the situation to his advantage. "Maybe you'll have to teach me," he whispers, letting his lips brush against Eddie's jaw. His ear.

It sends a heady spike of heat into his stomach, and he lets his mouth linger there. Lets himself feel Eddie's warmth.  _ He's with someone else,  _ he thinks, trying to convince himself what he's doing is wrong. It doesn't feel that way.

Eddie leans just as close, hand on Richie's shoulder to keep himself balanced. His lips brush against Richie's earlobe in the dark. "Maybe I will."

Richie shivers, and Eddie snorts, a bare breath. "Cold?"

Richie nods. The words don't come. "I thought it was impossible," Eddie whispers, joking. When he leans back his nose skims Richie's cheek.

"Bev," Eddie says. She looks up at him from the floor. "Toss me a blanket."

She crawls across the floor to the TV stand and opens the bottom, pulling a blanket out. She tosses it to Eddie and crawls back. "You cold?" she asks quietly.

Eddie nods, unfolding the blanket. He tosses it around both of their shoulders. "It was for Richie."

"R--" Beverly looks at Richie, shocked.  _ "Richie?" _

_ "I know,"  _ Eddie laughs.

"Amazing," Beverly says, shaking her head and turning around.

Eddie leans against him again, pulling his knees up to his chest. "You don't feel cold," he whispers.

He leans his head against Richie's shoulder, watching the movie. Richie stares at the screen, but none of it stays in his mind. He weighs the pros and cons of moving, of wrapping Eddie up in his arms, of leaning his head back against Eddie's.

Richie decides to chance it. There's no telling how long it'll be before he's in the position he is now. He lifts his arm up, wrapping it around Eddie's shoulders.

Eddie leans into him more, and Richie feels himself go light. His chest is thrumming, stomach swimming with butterflies. He's thankful Eddie can't hear his heartbeat.

Richie lays the hand he's holding the blanket with over Eddie's, and Eddie doesn't say anything about that, either.

# 11

He wakes in the middle of the night. At first he doesn't know why--he's comfortable, warm--but then he realizes it's because their last dvd is looping the menu. The music is loud and distracting, and Richie sits up, squinting at the screen.

It's bright, catching the Loser's figures and dragging their shadows to the walls. He looks around, and the longer he stays up the more he realizes he has to use the bathroom. He tosses the blanket off and shimmies down the end of the futon, throwing it back over Eddie.

He makes it a quick trip. It's cold in the house, the air conditioner cranked, and he shivers the way there and back. He slows down once he hits the carpet in the living room, and stops when he sees the TV still running. He pats for the remote on the side table, and when he doesn't find it he tiptoes through the bodies on the floor to turn it off manually.

"Rich," Eddie mumbles.

His voice is gruff and groggy, and Richie hums in question. He makes his way back to the futon.

"Where did you go?" Eddie asks. He's peeking out of one eye, face screwed up in petulance.

Richie can't help but smile.  _ So soft,  _ he thinks, setting his hands on his knees as he bends down. "Didn't think Ben would appreciate me peeing the bed. Why? You into that sort of stuff?"

Eddie's face scrunches up. "Just get back in," he hisses.

Richie snorts quietly, pulling the blanket back. Eddie grunts, curling up, and Richie climbs over him. He lays down, pushing his pillow around until he's comfortable with it. Eddie pulls the blanket back over himself.

"Cold," he grumbles, pushing up against Richie.

Richie stiffens, arm lifting when Eddie tosses his hand around Richie's back. He scoots forward until they're chest to chest.

_ Fuck, calm down,  _ he urges himself. Now Eddie  _ can  _ feel his heartbeat, and it's kicked up a quick tattoo.  _ Listen,  _ he thinks, looking down at the top of Eddie's head,  _ listen to what you do to me. _

He wraps Eddie up in his arms, sighing out a quelling breath. Even if perfect is temporary, Richie doesn't mind giving into it.


	2. Yellow Carnation

# 12

It rains.

It's still hot with summer lingering into the school year, but change isn't far off. The leaves are turning, the mornings are chilly. Fall means less time for the barrens. Winter means no quarry. They're losing time.

The Loser's plans for the day are ruined. The Barrens turn into muddy mess with the rain, and swimming in a storm is a theory no one wants to test.

Instead they break off. Bill stays home with Georgie, Stan heads over to Mike's, Ben and Beverly go to the theater, and Richie is left at home.

He thinks about it. Considers crashing any of their parties. Ben and Beverly are probably making out, and Stan is  _ probably  _ putting the moves on Mike. There's no telling really.

_ I could go stop at Bill's,  _ he thinks, staring up at his ceiling. It's silent in the house, but he occasionally catches the sound of footsteps downstairs. Soft voices.  _ But he's probably working on homework or something stupid. _

It makes him feel incredibly alone. Everyone is with someone else--even his  _ parents.  _ It leaves Richie up in his room, staring at the ceiling and pretending he has something to keep him company.

He wants to call Eddie. They used to spend weekends together in Richie's room, just passing the time and pretending, pretending, pretending their lives were somehow bigger than they were. Heroes off on an extraordinary adventure.

Eventually they stopped. Turned their attention to books and comics and video games. Somewhere they really  _ could  _ be something else.

But Eddie doesn't have all that time to be wasting anymore. He has to work. He has other friends besides Richie and Bill.  _ He has a girlfriend,  _ Richie thinks.

And he knows,  _ knows,  _ if Eddie wasn't dating anyone he wouldn't be thinking so harshly. Envy is the poison of happiness, and Richie doesn't know how to make it stop.

_ Tell him,  _ he thinks. He tenses on his sheets at the rogue thought, turning it over and over in his mind.  _ Tell him how you feel. _

But Richie is terrified of the consequences of his actions, and he resigns himself to struggle at the sidelines watching a race he can only hope to glimpse when it circles the track and waves.

He's halfway into a game of the sims when his phone buzzes. He picks it up and sets his controller in his lap, swiping through his apps. The list of people drags down his messaging screen, and Eddie is at the top. There's a notification by his name.

Richie doesn't read the message. He turns his phone over and sets it on the floor again, leaning back against the foot of his bed.

Eddie was meant to go out on a date with Mary today. If he's texting Richie that means that something didn't go according to plan, and Richie is his rebound. That the rest of the Losers were too busy with each other to answer his messages. Richie hates being the last choice.

His phone buzzes again. And again. And again. Richie is starting to get agitated, and as much as he wants to ignore Eddie for pushing him aside he knows there's a part of him that doesn't want to put up a fight.

He picks his phone up on the fourth message, pausing his game again opening his messages. There's three from Eddie and one from his mom. He furrows his eyebrows.

** _Mommy Dearest:_ **

** _Eddie said he can't get ahold of you. You'd better be upstairs._ **

Richie sets his controller down, tapping on her name and typing out a quick message. He's smiling, and he makes no move to wipe it off his face.  _ Went through my mother,  _ he thinks.  _ Of course. _

** _you couldve just yelled_ **

He opens Eddie's messages up, reading through them quickly. His phone buzzes with another text--his mom already--but he ignores it.

** _Ed Bug:_ **

** _You free?_ **

** _Richie_ **

** _I know youre home._ **

_ He probably texted everyone else when I didn't answer the first time,  _ Richie thinks. There's a twenty minute gap between his first and second message.

Richie opens his keyboard. All his earlier agitation is gone, replaced with the prospect of seeing Eddie.  _ Just seeing words on a screen is enough for me. _

** _where else would i be baby_ **

He waits, watching the screen. Bubbles appear almost immediately, and Richie's stomach goes a little warm.  _ He was waiting. _

** _Ed Bug:_ **

** _Hanging out with literally any of our other friends?_ **

Before Richie has a chance to type anything out, the bubbles on Eddie's side pop back up.

** _Im coming over_ **

Richie opens his keyboard, shocked and open mouthed but more pleased than he has been in days.

** _whoa whoa whoa i havent even asked mom_ **

** _Ed Bug:_ **

** _Your mom probably loves me more than you_ **

Richie huffs a laugh.

** _We both know who your mother loves more_ **

There's a pause for a few minutes, and Richie shuffles through his apps, thumbing at the analog stick on his controller. He's driving, most likely. Can't be bothered to get his bike out because  _ 'I could slide on the pavement and break my wrist, Richie' _ , and no walking because that means getting rained on.

** _Ed Bug:_ **

** _You'd better be wearing clothes when I get up there._ **

Richie snorts, thinks about pulling his shirt off and walking around in his boxers. He wonders what Eddie would do, wonders if he would stare. He wonders what that touch would feel like on the skin of his chest. Wonders how much more intimate any of it will be because they're alone.

There's a knock at his door and Richie jumps, stolen from his reverie. He tries not to blush and hopes it's not his mom. Too many questions.

"Richie," Eddie calls, softer than normal. Polite. "Can I come in?"

Richie unpauses his game, breathing a little more staggered than usual in a bid to sound normal. "It's open, Eds!"

The door opens, and Eddie tosses his coat over Richie’s desk chair before he’s even all the way inside, pushing the door closed again. He glances at the TV on his way over, and Richie sees him smile out of the corner of his eye.

He keeps his eyes glued on the TV screen, and the bed against his back dips when Eddie sits, one leg crossed and the other hanging over the edge. He’s suddenly afraid to be alone with him—like he can’t trust himself to keep his feelings in check long enough for Eddie to get out of his house without being kissed.

_ It’s not that hard,  _ he thinks, watching his Sim throw a fit after making a bad batch of salad.  _ Just act normal. _

Eddie laughs behind him when his Sim’s stove subsequently catches fire, and Richie’s throat feels dry. His chest hurts.  _ What is normal? _

Eddie nudges his back, and Richie tenses, looking back at him. “What?”

“Are you alright?” he asks, glancing back at the TV screen.

Richie smiles. It feels shaky at first, but it fits back into place easily enough. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You didn’t make a stupid joke when I came in,” Eddie says, listing on his fingers, “you didn’t say anything about me being in your  _ bed, _ and there’s not a time that’s happened to you that you haven’t lost it.” He points at the game. Richie’s Sim is caught in the kitchen fire, and he doesn’t move him.

Eddie gives him another lingering look. Trying to read him.

Richie shoves up a wall, feeling his face go carefully still. He stares back at Eddie, notices the way his eyes darken to a bluey grey in the shadow of his bedroom, his furrowed eyebrows, the curve of his downturned lips. He’s losing his freckles to the fall weather.

Richie’s chest twangs with longing. He feels like he’s choking.

“Are you OK?” Eddie asks. Richie watches the way his mouth shapes the words and thinks,  _ ‘No, no I’m not OK. How could I be?’ _

He looks at the TV finally and sees his gravestone. It hits a little too close to home. “Yeah,” he says finally. It sounds halfhearted.

Eddie reaches out to him, and Richie feels his presence like a shock to his nerves. He knows that touch will send goosebumps rippling over his skin, will make his stomach feel hot and his chest go light. Make him want to turn around and sink into Eddie. He feels crazy.

Richie tenses, afraid of the consequences. He doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut, and if it’s gotten him in trouble before it’s more than likely to get him in trouble now. More than before, even.

Eddie stops, and Richie swears he can feel his hand hovering, brushing against the air at the back of his neck. He wants it. He doesn’t.

Eddie pulls his hand back, and Richie’s sure he’s set it back in his lap. He navigates his Sim’s ghost around the house, spooking other residents just to have something to do. He’s not processing any of it.

The rest of the night is spent in tense company, and Richie goes to bed troubled.

# 13

The next day at school Eddie is terse with him, and Richie doesn’t quite understand why, but doesn’t push the subject. He lets Eddie choose the distance that needs to be kept between them. Just like he has been.

It’s Richie’s fault. He knows that. Mary had come into the picture and Richie had jutted his foot out to hold his place in Eddie’s life, but rather than a bookmark it became the first brick in the wall Eddie was building. He doesn’t have any right to complain about the distance between them when he was the driving force behind it all.

_ I didn’t want to be,  _ he thinks. He shoves his books into his locker haphazardly as per usual.

Richie knows what he wanted to be, and it’s exactly how he ended up in this mess in the first place.

# 14

Time passes, and after too many run-ins with bad weather the Losers collectively agree to go to the beach and the carnival in the same day. It’s not Derry’s carnival, but it’s a carnival all the same.

They mostly stick to themselves for the upcoming few weeks—gathering what few finances they can, Richie guesses. He’s doing the same. He’s not a big spender—maybe some snacks and food here and there, but he doubts he’ll buy anything.

_ Unless, unless, unless,  _ his mind cries.  _ Unless Eddie wants something and can’t get it himself. _

Richie wonders if that’s really what he’s been slaving over at the diner this whole time. Holding onto hope. Anything. That hesitation he always sees in Eddie’s eyes, like he’s just as breathtaken. Like every time Richie imagines kissing him Eddie imagines it too.

He remembers that night watching movies at his house. The way Eddie leaned into him, turned his face until it ran against Richie’s and his lips caught on Richie’s skin.  _ Why,  _ Richie wonders. He thinks he knows why, but it feels dangerously close to an assumption.

_ That’s how it could be,  _ he thinks,  _ forever. _

He fights with his smile and gets back to work.

# 15

The day comes, too fast and too slow. The weather’s as good as it’s going to get so late in the season, and they’re packed and ready to go with the knowledge it’s going to be chilly.

They’ve decided to stop in Portland. It’s a bit of a drive, but the festivities are in full swing, and even if no one decides to get in the water, Richie’s ready for a night of sugar and too many rides.

He picks up Ben and Beverly early in the morning, and they climb into the back of his van without asking where they should sit. It’s his mother’s old car, but Richie’s too broke to be complaining. He likes the space.

They’re both out cold by the time he gets to Eddie’s place, and he tries to pull to a soft stop in the driveway. Eddie is standing outside his garage, pillow wrapped up in his arms and held close. He looks carefully groomed, but Richie can tell he’s trying to hold onto the edges of sleep.

“They’re asleep already?” Eddie asks when he gets in, voice low to avoid disturbing them.

Richie doesn’t waste any time pulling out and starting down the road, phone up on his dashboard to guide him. He glances in the rear view mirror, sees Beverly and Ben laying most illegally against each other in his back seat. He smiles.

Eddie is watching him when he looks over, smile sleepy and soft on his mouth, and Richie feels his face go hot. He looks stalwartly forward at the road.

“What?” he asks, trying for a chuckle and choking instead.

Eddie shakes his head, looking content. “Nothing,” he says. He leans back into the seat and molds his pillow into a good shape.

Richie sees the way his eyelids droop into his eyes and feels warm and light.  _ So soft,  _ he thinks. He’s happy. Looking forward to the day.

It’s like something’s finally settled back into place between them. If not for forever, then for right now.

They get to Portland early in the morning and park at the beach, empty besides their two cars. Mike is waking Bill and Stan up with a smile, and Richie watches him through the car window for a few seconds before looking at the passenger seat.

Eddie is asleep, face turned into the window and arms limp on his pillow where it rests in his lap. Richie can see his reflection in the window, and a pang of want drops into his stomach. He wishes they were closer, wishes he could wrap Eddie up in a blanket and feel him resting against his chest.

_ Feel him, feel him, want to feel him,  _ he thinks, cyclical.

He swallows harshly, trying to work his throat and feeling like something’s caught there.  _ I can’t ruin today. _

The car feels like it’s filling, air like poison sneaking into his lungs. Anxiety claws at the skin of his back, and Richie throws the car door open maybe a little too quickly.

He walks around to the hood of his car and leans against it, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes trained on the ocean to give him the appearance of an awed onlooker. He knows Mike is probably looking at him, and doesn’t need Stan’s prodding attention at his heels all day.

_ It’s going to be good,  _ he tells himself slow, like the annunciated words will help calm him down.  _ Today is going to be good. _

He takes a deep breath, and looks over at Mike’s truck. Everyone has their eyes on him, and he feels a shred of normalcy returning. Feels a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Richie kicks his car door closed and doesn’t look back to watch it startle everyone awake. He knocks on the hood of Mike’s truck, leaning against it.

“You just gonna hang out inside all day?” he asks, taunting. “Or are we gonna kick this off before I’m in my grave?”

Stan rolls his eyes and sighs, but Bill and Mike smile, slipping out of the car. They don’t waste any time grabbing towels and assorted goods, and Richie gets a few inner tubes and beach balls shoved into his arms.

By the time they’ve hit the beach the residents of Richie’s van are just getting out, and he sets down his towel haphazardly, excited. He’s more careful with Eddie’s towel, bent on keeping the sand off as he lays it down. Mike steps up behind him and starts digging in the sand for somewhere to put the umbrella.

“Planning on getting in, Tozier?” he asks, glancing up.

Richie scoffs. “You have the gall to ask,” he says, voice thick with an accent.

Mike just laughs and goes about his business. He’s already decked out in swim trunks, and Richie looks around for somewhere to change.

Everyone ends up getting dressed between their two cars and hoping for the best, and thankfully no one gets caught unawares. It’s still just the seven of them on the beach by the time they’re all set up and dressed, and Richie breathes in the ocean air, smiling despite himself.

“Are you gonna get in or are you just gonna stand there?” Eddie asks beside him.

Richie looks over at him, but without his glasses the most he can see is a blob of color. Dark hair, pale skin, and his patterned swim trunks. Richie breathes and doesn’t feel the cluster of feelings between them that he’s come to expect recently. They’re back to normal. At least for the day. Richie feels the offer of parley like a physical thing, and is determined not to take advantage of it.

Richie steps into the surf, and when he turns around he makes sure to kick water up at Eddie. Eddie curses and chases in after him, throwing water with his hands, and Richie laughs, swimming out as far as he can.

They swim through the day and stop a few times for food and snacks. Stan and Eddie spend more time on the beach than the rest of them, and every time he leaves the water Richie feels his absence acutely.  _ Today isn’t about him,  _ Richie thinks.  _ It’s about us. _

But it doesn’t help, and his heart stays locked onto Eddie’s location every time they’re separate.

Around dinner they all collect their things and file back to their respective cars, exhausted but excited for the carnival.

It’s almost the end of the carnival season, and Richie expects it to be fairly slow, but when they drive past it’s busier than he’s ever seen it. He worries about how long ride lines are going to take, but they have time. They’re sleeping in their cars this evening, so there’s no rush to leave in time to drive home. It’s not much consolation to his impatience, but it’s something.

The lights are blinking in lines when they get inside, drawing them forward, and the hustle and bustle seems endless. People are in lines everywhere, and the people navigating between them have to weave to get through. Every bench is taken and there’s not a single food truck or ride that isn’t surrounded by people.

It’s perfect.

“I’m gonna go find dinner,” Mike says, making a general motion out at all the trucks. Stan clicks his tongue, lips twisted unhappily. “You guys can go wherever, just make sure you’re watching your phones so I can meet up with you.”

He starts off in a random direction, and Stan hesitates, but follows after. Richie watches the way clings to Mike in the commotion and smiles to himself.

“Hey g-guys!” Bill calls halfheartedly. He jogs after them, not wanting to be left out.

The four of them stand in silence for a moment, and Beverly steps forward, hands on her hips. “Let’s go Ben.”

“Where?” he asks, stepping back to her side.

“Hey,” Eddie says, accusing. “What about us?”

“Find your own thing to do,” Beverly says. She turns and takes Ben’s hand, dragging him into the crowd. “Go make out on the ferris wheel or something.”

Eddie tenses beside him, face going red. “Would you shut up?” he snaps. Richie can tell how flustered he is, and he has the sudden urge to grab his hand to calm him.

Ben starts pushing Beverly to separate the two of them, and she holds up her hands as she backs up. “Just giving you options,” she says, utterly unapologetic.

They disappear into the crowd, and Richie looks around for something to do. Beyond the line of food stalls is the midway. Maybe if Eddie wins something he’ll calm a bit.

_ Win it for him,  _ his brain suggests.  _ A gift. _

And how cute would it be if Eddie kept something like that—maybe a big stuffed animal to go on his bed. He would kill to see how Mary would react.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Eddie asks as they start walking. He doesn’t ask where they’re going or what they’re doing, and Richie feels the same trust between them as before.

“I mean—”

“Why am I even asking,” Eddie rolls his eyes, huffing at himself, “you probably love it.”

_ I do.  _ “I was  _ going _ to say,” Richie continues, “that if it makes you uncomfortable they should stop.”

Eddie looks taken aback, but he recovers quickly. There’s something appreciative in his gaze, and Richie smiles, soft.  _ I’ll dial it back. _

Eddie looks at the ground, and then forward again, thanks written in the subtle tilt of his lips.

Richie brushes his fingers over Eddie’s wrist, motioning with a nod where they’re going, and Eddie kicks up his pace, smile lighting his features.

They stop at a few different places, and Eddie throws darts at balloons and Richie tosses ping pong balls into goldfish bowls to no avail. They’re rigged and they both know it, but when Richie completely misses a few shots and ping pong balls go rolling off down the street Eddie’s laugh is worth the wasted money.

Richie ends up spending a hefty sum on french fries and pizza, and even though Eddie worries endlessly about the healthiness of their food, Richie ends up buying the biggest bag of cotton candy he can.

He’s down to the last couple dollars in his wallet when they stop at a stall with stacked milk bottles, and Richie knows he’s about to blow everything he has, but there’s a huge stuffed turtle that Eddie’s been eyeing all night and he can’t turn it down.

“Just one go,” Richie says, handing over nearly everything he has. The man behind the counter parses through his bills and passes over a softball, unimpressed.

Richie doesn’t care. He turns the ball over in his hand, ready to be royally fucked over by this guy. Eddie is tapping his foot anxiously when Richie turns to him and holds out the softball.

“What?” Eddie asks. He holds his hands up. “I’m not doing it.”

“Share some luck with me,” Richie says, shaking the ball.

Eddie laughs, shaking his head, and leans in close to blow over the ball.

“That’s it?” Richie huffs, pulling the ball back to his chest and eyeing the milk bottles. “Greedy.”

“Not my fault you’ve pushed your luck until it left.”

Richie shakes his head, trying to focus. He knows he can’t do it, but he wants to be able to more than anything.

_ Please don’t let all those rock fights in the Barrens be for nothing,  _ he thinks.

He wings the ball as hard as he can, hoping for the best. Two of the milk bottles immediately fall over, and the third spins, spins, spins, and tips over the edge of the table.

Richie laughs, shocked and surprised at himself. The carnival worker looks shocked as well, and glances at Richie, then holds his hands out at the prizes hanging overhead.

“What’ll it be?” he asks.

Richie immediately points to the turtle. “That.”

The man sighs, rummaging around for a hook to get it off of the overhang.

“Richie,” Eddie hisses. “What are you doing?”

“Winning, Eds, what does it look like?” he huffs a laugh through his nose, tapping his hands against his thighs while he waits.  _ I did it. _

“Why did you get the turtle.” Eddie watches the man pull it down and struggle with it before walking over. It sounds like he already knows the answer.

When Richie pulls it over the counter it drags softballs onto the ground, but Richie ignores it. He’s excited, happy with his bounty, and he has just enough money to get them on the ferris wheel before the night is over.  _ Perfect. _

Eddie grabs a few of the softballs and shoves them on the counter before catching up to Richie. “Did you really want it?” he asks.

“Oh, no,” Richie laughs, making a beeline through the crowds. “This is for you.”

Eddie is red and Richie doesn’t have to look over to know that. “Why? You could’ve bought more food or—”

“Gotta spoil my Ed Bug,” Richie says, tilting his body into Eddie’s space.

“But—”

“It’s already done,” Richie cuts him off.

He passes Eddie the turtle once they’re in line, and Eddie can’t even fit his arms around it. He looks unsure, eyes anywhere but on Richie.

“What are we doing?” he asks. It’s too late to be wondering—they’ve been in line for more than a few minutes, and it’ll only be a couple minutes more before they’re at the front.

“We’re standing in line,” Richie says.

Eddie gives him a look, and Richie smiles. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know that I do.”

Eddie frowns, and Richie hesitates, realizing his treading the line. Again. “Why the ferris wheel,” he asks, “out of everything.”

Richie can tell Beverly’s words stuck with him, and he turns the idea over and over in his head. Why  _ did _ he choose this?

_ Romantic,  _ his brain thinks. Richie purses his lips.

“I figured since this was probably the last time we’re all gonna be at the carnival together we should end the night on a high note,” Richie says. It’s not entirely false, and he means it even though he doesn’t expect it to come out of his mouth.

Eddie is quiet when they step up to the front of the line, but he looks thoughtful. “No, that’s—that sounds nice.”

Richie breathes out a sigh. There are soft spots between the two of them, and Richie presses into bruises every time he speaks. He hates it, wishes things would go back to the way they were. Wishes they would change for the better. He doesn’t know which one he wants more.

They’re some of the last people on the ferris wheel, and while Eddie’s busy finding somewhere good to leave his turtle, Richie takes a seat and settles in. Eddie climbs in next to him, shoving himself against the side of the bucket so they don’t touch.

They stop from the bottom to the top while people get on, and Eddie leans against the guard, carefully balancing his arms on his sleeves so they don’t touch the metal.

“Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?” Eddie asks.

“After school?” Richie looks at him, and Eddie nods. “I’m sure we will,” he says. “There’s no way I’m letting all you guys get away from me that easy.”

Eddie smiles. It’s small. Tired. “Afraid you won’t be able to make any friends?”

“Afraid no one else has the mental fortitude to be around me besides you guys.”

“You’re probably right,” Eddie laughs. They’re going around fully now, and the ferris wheel turns slow circles over the carnival. “It’ll be a miracle if you can settle down anywhere else.”

“OK, OK,” Richie laughs, holding his hands up. “I get it. I’ll just follow you guys wherever you go, no one else can handle Richie Tozier, yada yada.”

Eddie sighs, but he’s smiling. “Even if we’re apart,” he says, quiet. The carnival is a mess of noise, but Richie can only focus on his voice, “I’ll never be able to forget you guys.”

The ferris wheel slows and stops at the top. The lights dance below them, playing on the waves where the beach meets the ocean. Richie can hear laughter, screaming, excited cries. The surf crashes in low undertones.

“I like you,” Richie says, so sudden he doesn’t know he’s said it until Eddie looks at him.

“What?” he asks.

Richie feels exposed, and the words catch in his throat. The light flickers against Eddie’s skin and in his eyes, making him shine. A tableau.

“I like you,” Richie says again.

Eddie laughs, but it’s forced. “I thought you were joking,” he says, voice weak. “All those times.”

“I was,” Richie says. This isn’t what he wanted to happen, this isn’t how he wanted it to go— “But—but things changed, and I, I—”

“Is this why you’ve been treating Mary like shit?” Eddie asks, and his voice goes from weak to strong in an instant. He looks conflicted, upset, angry.

Richie’s face feels hot. Embarrassed and ashamed.  _ This isn’t what I wanted.  _ “I—”

“I’m not gay, Richie,” Eddie says. It’s so final, just those few words. Richie feels it like a blow to the chest—the emotion rather than the words themselves. Eddie swallows, staring forward and shaking his head softly. “What do you want me to say?”

Richie looks forward, too. He opens his mouth to say something, but the abrasiveness of Eddie’s words has his voice caught in his throat, trapped up and tangled. He feels laid bare—his emotions set out in the middle of them like a carcass to be kicked around and ignored. He feels like he’s choking.

They don’t say anything on the way out of the carnival, and Eddie talks lightly with the rest of the Losers when they meet up, but Richie still can’t find his voice. They go back to the beach, tired, and set up for the night.

Eddie sleeps in Mike’s truck, and Richie realizes the ocean is just as dark and empty as he is.

**Author's Note:**

> my Twitter can be found at [naiesu_s](https://twitter.com/naiesu_s) . come say hi!
> 
> the playlist for this story can be found at [Be Real](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/75hGkXp7ICdGnT8HJ35GlL) , If you have a song suggestion be sure to tell me, I'm always looking for new music!


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